


Take A Star

by writingreels (themonstrousregiment)



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Multi, bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 13:29:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12277476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themonstrousregiment/pseuds/writingreels
Summary: It began with a jar, gleaming in the morning sun, and full to the brim with purple stars.





	Take A Star

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago for tumblr and completely forgot to post it on ao3 til now. Hope you enjoy it!

It began with a jar.

It once held coffee beans, but it had since been cleaned until it gleamed, the label carefully peeled off and the residual glue rubbed away, until the glass sparkled like new.

A sunny yellow sticker was stuck on the front, and across it were scribbled the words which started it all:

“Take a Star to Brighten Your Day!!!”

And it was full of small, purple paper stars.

“It’s for you!” said Patton eagerly, when Virgil walked into the kitchen for breakfast and frowned at the jar placed at his usual setting at the table.

“What?”

Logan set down his cutlery, and began adjusting his glasses – a nervous tick that immediately made Virgil suspicious.

“Patton is indeed correct. It has come to our attention, Virgil, that you suffer from worrying amounts of self-doubt and insecurity, particularly regarding our appreciation for you and your contribution to Thomas’ wellbeing. While, in an ideal situation, we would like to be with you to offer support when you experience these moments of doubt, we know this may not always be possible. Therefore, we have created a method through which to show our appreciation – “

“It’s a compliment jar!” Roman interrupted, through a mouthful of pancakes.

Logan sighed, “Really, Roman? Must you interrupt me? While  _still_  eating?”

Roman rolled his eyes, “You were taking too long to explain, Brainiac!”  

Logan adjusted his glasses again, “I think you’ll find I was being perfectly succinct – “

“A what?” Virgil interrupted, before the argument could escalate further. He hesitantly took his place at the table, being careful to avoid touching the jar. It was an unknown entity, a break in routine, and he did not like change one bit.  

“It’s full of messages from us, kiddo!” Patton beamed as he handed him a fresh stack of pancakes, with syrup and blueberries on the side, just as Virgil liked them.

“Messages?” Virgil looked at the stars doubtfully.

“They’re compliments! And let it be known that it was  _my_ idea to fold them into paper stars!” Roman gestured dramatically.

Virgil looked down at his pancakes and frowned.

“I – I don’t understand. Why…?”

Logan cleared his throat, drawing Virgil’s attention. “As I was saying, before Roman’s unnecessary contribution–“

“Hey!”

“–we have identified that you experience instances of self-doubt and insecurity, and are aware that you may find it….difficult to ask for assistance. After much deliberation and research, we have worked together to create a Compliment Jar for you.”

Virgil eyed the jar, before picking up a blueberry from his plate. He began to roll it between his fingers nervously.

“What do I do with it?”

“We envision that, whenever you are feeling strong negative emotions, you can collect a star from the jar as a reassurance that we appreciate you and…” the tips of Logan’s ears flushed red, “…to show you that we care for you and your wellbeing, Virgil.”

Virgil looked at the jar and silently counted the many, many stars. He felt his cheeks grow warm, and quickly turned away, hoping his foundation would hide his blush.

“…it’s really for me?” he mumbled quietly, almost too quiet to be heard.

There was a moment of silence, thick like the syrup on his pancakes, and then Virgil felt a warm hand carefully clasp his own.

“Of course it is.” He started at the contact, and looked up into Patton’s eyes, full of  _warmth_ and something else, something Virgil didn’t want to name, just in case he jinxed it.

“We made it especially for you Verge,” Roman piped up, his voice soft and warm.

Virgil looked at the jar, filled with bright purple stars, bright purple  _compliments_ , written just for him, and he felt the tell-tale prick of tears gathering in the corner of his eyes.

He quickly looked down and pulled his hand free, but couldn’t hide the small smile lighting up his face, nor hide the blushing tips of his ears from observant eyes.

“…Thanks guys.”

The rest of breakfast passed quietly (and, if a few small happy tears were shed over syrup-covered pancakes, the other sides pretended not to notice).

 

 

–

 

 

Several days passed before Virgil found himself alone in his room at 3am, his thoughts racing and chasing each other, like cats chasing their tails.

_\- Why are you so useless no one cares for you why do you even bother -_

He was curled up under his blanket, trying to keep his breathing steady and wishing it was daytime, because then at least the others would be awake and he could sit with Patton and let him play with his hair or do a puzzle with Logan or watch movies with Roman, but they were sleeping and he couldn’t bother them, couldn’t wake them up just because he was being a giant baby and couldn’t stop worrying and doubting and hating himself, it wasn’t fair on them and  _they’d hate him_ -

And then he remembered the jar, full to the brim with purple stars.

Virgil sat up, his thoughts suddenly fixated on the jar in the kitchen. He’d left it there, not yet brave enough to pick it up and carry it to his room with all the others watching.

… _Could he get a star? Did he_ need _a star?_

He frowned and rubbed at his chest.

_Maybe he didn’t_ need _a star, but he really_ wanted _one._

He jumped out of bed before he could change his mind, and sunk down, reappearing moments later in the kitchen. It was dark, but his eyes quickly adjusted, until he could make out the shadowy shape of the jar on the table.

He liked to think he could even see Patton’s quirky handwriting on the label in the darkness, calling out to him.  

_Take a Star to Brighten Your Day!!!_

Well, it wasn’t quite day yet, but it still counted right?

Hesitantly he shuffled forward and reached out a hand, until his fingers met cool glass. He took a deep breath, and before his bravery could desert him, he quickly unscrewed the lid and grabbed at the stars.

As soon as he felt the paper in the palm of his hands, he rescrewed the lid and sank back out into his bedroom, his heart racing with adrenaline and  _excitement_ , because he’d done it, he had a star!

He sat on his bed and opened his hand, and frowned.

Oh,  _great_. He’d taken  _three_  stars by accident.

Now what? Should he take two back? But then he’d have to put them back in the jar, and they were already crumpled from his hand, and what if the others could tell he’d put them back?

What if they thought he was ungrateful, that he didn’t like them?

Could he open one and keep the other two in his room? No, that was too tempting. How could he  _ever_ sleep if he knew he had two stars, written just for him, just a few feet from his bed? He just couldn’t.

Virgil looked down at the paper stars, the same shade of purple as his jacket.

He would just have to open all of them.

With shaking hands, he reached forward and gently unfolded each star, being careful not to tear the paper. He squinted in the dark. He could barely make out the handwriting on each, so he reached for his phone, using the screen as a light.

_I love your smile kiddo! – P_

_Your make-up looked magnificent today! – R_

_I enjoy our debates immensely, you are an excellent conversationalist – L_

And as he read each message, each little compliment, over and over and over again, he felt his chest grow light, and his breathing grow calm and steady, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt, in that moment in the dark, that he was loved _._

(And in the days after that, when he felt the self-doubt and hate and fear creeping up on him again, he would return to the kitchen and take another star - not even noticing that the jar never seemed to empty - and he would let a few kind words chase away his worry, even if it was just for a short time, and replace it with something warm, and kind, and loving).

 


End file.
